


Ease

by orphan_account



Series: the ocean is six miles deep [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Emotional Sex, M/M, Tooru Wearing Hajime's Hoodie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:37:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6351925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's early in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ease

**Author's Note:**

> this is sort of a continuation of 'submarine' but you don't have to read it in order for this to make sense
> 
> it's literally just boys in love and tooru in hajime's hoodie

Tooru woke a few hours after Hajime, he always did, because Tooru had a horrid sleep schedule and was not a morning person, he never had been, and after all this time, Hajime had simply accepted it. He’d usually stay in bed with Tooru for an hour or so, watching him sleep and pet his hair or intertwine their fingers and hold him closer, and then he’d leave Tooru to let him sleep some more, because it was a Sunday, and that’s what Sundays were made for, really, staying in and eating breakfast together hours later and wasting hours around the house together.

Tooru woke to the distant rumbles of video games and a loud curse from Hajime, and he cracked a small smile before stretching and working out the kinks he’d earned from the old mattress of Hajime’s bed. He pushed the blankets away from his body and ran a hand through his hair. It was a disaster and he was fairly sure he looked like a mess, but it didn’t really matter, because looks didn’t matter to either Hajime or Tooru at this point.

They were no longer that vulnerable to each other.

Reaching to the nightstand, Tooru placed his glasses on his nose and shuffled around, searching for his clothes. He could only find his boxers. It didn’t really matter, though, not when Hajime’s closet was so inviting for Tooru, and there was something incredibly intimate about wearing someone else’s clothes, wasn’t there? Tooru scooped up a pair of Hajime’s old sweatpants and pulled them on, and he dug around to find a worn hoodie, too, from Hajime’s university college.

He felt completely lazy, and as he tapped his way into Hajime’s living room, he thought about how he was perhaps become too accustomed and used to Hajime. His life had been moulded to fit perfectly to Hajime’s, and Hajime had done the same, too. Tooru spent the majority of the week at Hajime’s place, by now, and they were becoming too damn _domestic_.

It made Tooru feel warm inside and affection was swelling up deep inside of his chest, seeping into his fingers as he saw the back of Hajime’s head, body slumped on his worn sofa, which, at this point in its lifespan, was more foam than fabric. They’d picked it up from the street late in their second year of university because ‘ _Free is free, Hajime!_ ’ to replace the one with the questionable stains originating from Tobio and Shoyou’s intimate escapades. Two years later, Tooru still grinned at the thought of how they carried it up the stairs of Hajime’s apartment complex, half-drunk on lust and love and alcohol, too.

Hajime didn’t look up from his game when Tooru came into the room, and that was fine, because his voice was rough and low and the words, “Morning, babe.” tumbled out of his mouth all too naturally.

Tooru tapped his knuckled against the back of his head.

“Hey,” he said, and Hajime glanced up from the game for a moment.

“Are those— are those my clothes?” he asked.

“Yeah,” answered Tooru, “I couldn’t find mine.”

“They’re probably under the bed.”

Tooru hummed in agreement and let his body fall down onto the sofa beside Hajime, on the opposite end of the sofa, resting his legs across Hajime’s lap. Hajime looked at him, for a moment, and Tooru did, too, before Hajime turned his attention back to the screen, and when he played, he moved the controller in the direction he was aiming at, as though it would make him play better and increase his abilities. Tooru had a similar habit.

He waited until Hajime lost and swore in annoyance before he placed his hand on the bare skin of Tooru’s calves and ankles, smooth under his rough fingers, and moved across the sofa to Tooru’s end and kissed him. Tooru sighed into the kiss, and he opened his mouth far too easily, letting Hajime cradle his head and bit at his lower lip, fingers drawing nonsense patterns over his legs up to his thighs before he reached his hips. Gripping him closer, Hajime dragged Tooru towards him until their chests heaved in synchronicity and Tooru was sitting in Hajime’s lap and their breaths were coming out heavier than before.

Hajime’s fingers and palms did not still; he slid his hands over Tooru’s body, fingers playing with the waistband of his boxers and the hem of the hoodie, then drifting down over the toned muscles of his bare thighs and calves with one hand, the other sliding up underneath the worn fabric of Hajime’s hoodie. He pressed his fingers over Tooru’s waist and spine, and he groaned, then, because Tooru was grinding against him in a way that was anything but innocent and the fabric of Hajime’s hoodie was soft and familiar and yet incredibly agitating because _Tooru_ was wearing it now and pressed close to him.

“Your breath’s not much better than it was in the morning,” said Hajime when he pulled away to breathe, resting his head in the crook of Tooru’s shoulder enjoying the sensation of Tooru’s slim fingers carding through his hair.

He lifted his head after a moment, though, and stared at Tooru until Tooru tipped Hajime’s chin up and kissed him once more, though it was gentler, this time. Hajime felt his body sink in towards Tooru, but soon enough, Tooru pulled away once more, smiling and picking up the controller. He settled back to his side of the sofa, and draped his legs over Hajime’s lap once more. Hajime swallowed thickly, running his hands idly over Tooru’s shins and thighs, pushing and pulling on the fabric of Tooru’s boxers and focusing on the sight of Tooru’s small wrists in the large holes of the hoodie and how long his legs were and _God_ , he could snap Tooru in half, couldn’t he? Tooru was sort of muscular, sure, a little, but he was lean and all long limbs and jutting bones.

Hajime sighed and trailed his fingers along Tooru’s legs, and if Tooru thought it was strange, he didn’t say anything. He was focused on the game and he played for a while and Hajime was immensely, brutally _happy_ sitting there in silence with Tooru, stifling small yawns and watching Tooru’s shifting facial expressions and the way he drew the controlled up in the direction he wanted to go in the game just like Hajime did.

Hajime let his hand run along Tooru’s legs, lingering at his thighs and the junction of where his hip started and thigh ended. He trailed his fingers along, there, and save for a small shiver, Tooru did not move, until Hajime moved his hand up higher until his palm and fingers pressed against Tooru’s waist and ribs and shoulder blades.

Tooru’s breath hitched audibly and Hajime grinned. His touch became harder after that, kneading at the muscles and working out the kinks and cricks brought on by his horrible mattress.

 In the back of his mind, he registered that he should just buy a new one, because Tooru was practically living here anyway, and so it maybe, just _maybe_ , would make sense for Tooru to move in with him. His new place was void of unnecessary flatmates, namely Tobio, and Tooru was still living in that horrid flat with those anonymous strangers from his course. His lease was coming to an end, too. It made sense, and it seemed _right_ , though the thought of waking up to the sight of Tooru every morning made his chest ache and throat constrict.

Absentmindedly, Hajime continued to press his fingers into the soft flesh of Tooru’s waist and back until, subtly, Tooru’s foot shifted. Hajime stared down at it, then stared at Tooru. His attention was still directed at the video game and he didn’t even bother to look at Hajime as his foot shifted further, pressing up against Hajime’s crotch. Hajime wanted to jump, though he merely widened his eyes and stifled a gasp at the sudden pressure. Tooru’s foot moved up against his pelvis before sliding back down to the bunched fabric of his sweatpants, and Hajime swallowed thickly as Tooru kept the pressure soft and simply dragged his foot in a slow, circular motion between his legs.

It was unfair how turned on Hajime was, and if someone would have told him a year ago, five years ago, _ten_ years ago that he would be sitting with Tooru on a sofa that was more foam than fabric with a boner brought on by Tooru’s _foot_ , he would have laughed.

He wasn’t laughing now, though, as Hajime’s breaths came out harsher. He kneaded Tooru’s flesh in encouragement, and Tooru’s foot moved confidently, sweeping in the movements he knew drove Hajime insane. Hajime bit his lip to keep himself from moaning, and he was ready to throw aside the pretence of this little game they were playing, this innocent and almost nostalgic avoidance, and climb on top of Tooru and fuck him right into the sofa in that hoodie and his glasses and _God_ , his legs were so long and it was so unfair that he could look this _good_ every morning.

Hajime could barely constrain himself, and so he reached forward and pressed his palm against the curve of Tooru’s own hardening cock, though the flimsy material of his boxers. Tooru bit his lip. He didn’t turn to look at him, though it was increasingly difficult. He still focused on the game, breathing heavily though his nose and moaning quietly.

“Fuck!” he said suddenly as his concentration broke. He lost the game, and he threw up his hands in annoyance, tilting his head back.

Hajime laughed.

“I win.” he said, and Tooru turned his head to look at Hajime. His glasses were askew and his cheeks were flushed.

“What?” Tooru protested, “That was about the video game, not about— _ah_ ,” he moaned.

Hajime had slipped his hand into his boxers and squeezed, thumb pressed against his cockhead.

“Fuck,” he said once more, voice weak. He could feel his composure breaking.

Hajime swallowed and crawled his way to Tooru, kissing him soundly and pulling him into his lap. His hand was still shoved down his boxers, squeezing and pumping as Tooru gasped into his mouth. The earlier desire to fuck him into the sofa was becoming more and more desirable.

Hajime grinned as Tooru clawed at his shoulders, breaking the kiss to pull off his shirt, only to grasp the back of his head and pull him up, flush against his chest and the material of his hoodie, kissing him once more. Tooru was good at everything he did, Hajime thought, and kissing really was no exception, alternating between stroking into Hajime’s mouth with his tongue and chewing on his lower lip while making those soft noises and mewls and moans Tooru knew he loved.

Hajime’s hand found Tooru’s boxers, and he pulled them off, Tooru shifting his hips up to accommodate him. He shivered as Hajime’s large and callused hands smoothened down his thighs and stroked at the lines of his muscles before moving back up to his waist, pushing him down to lie beneath him on his back.

Tooru pulled away with a sigh, pulling down Hajime’s own sweatpants and throwing them haphazardly away. Hajime’s vision blurred with lust and he let out a helplessly vulnerable and desperate and raw moan. Tooru smiled up at him at the sound, and Hajime felt nothing but helpless, mad and deep love for him in that moment, sprawled out on his back like that beneath him on the horrid sofa, hair fanned out around him, chest heaving underneath the hoodie, glasses askew over his flushed cheeks. Hajime silently understood that he was completely doomed when it came to Tooru.

Before he could manage to say anything stupid and ruin everything with his overwhelming affection for Tooru, he leaned down and kissed him before reaching for the makeshift coffee table beside the sofa, grabbing the tube of lube that was there, a reminiscence of previous night’s endeavours.

Tooru shifted underneath him, sitting up a little as he began to pull of the hoodie.

“Wait,” Hajime protested and pushing him back onto his back, holding the lube in one hand, the other poised on Tooru’s cloth-covered chest. He swallowed thickly.

Tooru blinked up at him. Hajime cleared his throat and stared down at the hand pressing into Tooru’s chest.

“Leave it on,” he muttered, face bright red.

Tooru was silent, then, before smiling at him gently, and Hajime felt all the strings inside him break.

“Alright,” he said, and wrapped his arms around Hajime’s neck once more, sitting up and kissing at his throat, along his collarbones. Hajime made a soft noise at the back of his throat and tipped his head back. Tooru laughed, then.

“You’re horrible,” Hajime said and popped the cap off of the lube, pouring some of it into his hand. He shifted slightly against Tooru, the friction of Tooru’s body feeling far too pleasurable against his cock.

“Yeah,” he replied, voice low as Hajime smoothed his hand over Tooru’s cock, stroking slowly, because they could afford to be slow and lazy, today, thumb pressing against his cockhead before twisting downward. Tooru’s breath hitched gently.

“You’re sort of kinky, Hajime,” Tooru laughed, though it was cut short with a quiet moan as Hajime kissed and bit along Tooru’s throat, down to where the hem of his hoodie was. Tooru writhed underneath him.

“No fair,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hajime replied, though Tooru didn’t retaliate other than through a few strangled moans as Hajime’s fingers moved downwards. Tooru shifted his hips up, arching his back as Hajime entered a slick finger inside of him. He moaned, and Hajime let his forehead rest against his, because there was really nothing better in the world than watching Tooru’s small shifts in composure and his incredibly vulnerable facial expressions as he fingered him.

Tooru’s lips were shining from spit from kissing and his hair was tousled and his breath was warm and hot and heavy as it fanned out over Hajime’s lips and cheeks and jaw as Hajime thrust in a second finger, then a third. Tooru moaned, softly, and his eyes were dark and looking right back at Hajime. It made Hajime feel so deep with love and lust that it was like he was drowning, and he realised that it had all become a lot slower and romantic than intended.

Tooru didn’t seem to mind, though, and he smiled up at Hajime with such fragility and gentleness that Hajime was torn between melting at the sight or being incredibly offended that Tooru had the audacity and presence of mind to smile up at him with three of his fingers buried deep inside of his ass.

He hooked them upwards, then, and Tooru’s eyes slammed shut and mouth burst open with a moan. His head titled backwards, and his glasses tipped upwards towards his hair, and he looked like such a mess that Hajime’s chest ached with the desire to be inside of him, and so he removed his fingers and Tooru gasped at Hajime’s sense of urgency.

Hajime slicked himself with more lube before crawling back into in Tooru’s arms, his fingers touching the hem of the sleeves of the hoodie, and kissing him soundly as he pressed into him, swallowing Tooru’s moans. Tooru’s legs wrapped around his lips and Hajime let his hands roam over Tooru’s legs once more.

Hajime set the pace, speeding up as Tooru grew accustomed to having Hajime inside him. His face was still close to Tooru, and he could feel his breath and observe each small shift and change in expression. He was groaning through his nose, eyebrows knit, and sinking towards Hajime slowly. With a wheeze, his shoulders hunched and he gaped open-mouthed at the ceiling as he pulled at Hajime’s hair, and Hajime moaned, then, too.

“Oh, God,” Hajime swore barely above a whisper, “ _Tooru_.”

Tooru’s hands travelled up and down Hajime’s back muscles and shoulders and arms and he was starting to sweat now, underneath the hoodie.

“You’re so good at this,” he breathed, and he loved how easily the words tumbled out of his mouth, “You’re the _best_.”

“C’mon,” Tooru mouthed into the hollow of Hajime’s throat, “Fuck me the way you want to.”

Hajime sounded as though he had been kneed in the gut, and his rhythm faltered for a beat until he thrust forward and ripped a loud groan out of Tooru’s throat. He arched his back and curved up into each surge, and _God_ , he looked so beautiful like this. Hajime whispered it into his ear, along with other nonsense phrases and the endless repetition of his name as Tooru pulled his hair.

“I hope I can last,” Hajime choked out and heaved into Tooru’s body with faltering strength.

“It’s fine,” Tooru replied as Hajime tightened the hold on his hips and sides, “ _God_ , just—”

“I’m gonna come,” said Hajime with a painful breath as though he were a dying man praying on an altar, confessing his sins to a deity high above him, “Oh, _fuck_ —”

His hips dissolved into unsteady jerks, then, and his thrusts got shallow and erratic and Tooru whimpered below him, pulling at his hair once more as Hajime buried his head into Tooru’s neck, groaning until he breathed heavily, trying not to collapse on top of Tooru. He was shaking. Tooru was silent beneath him save for his hoarse and ragged breaths, and he covered his mouth with his palm and the sleeves of the hoodie when Hajime slipped out of him.

He trailed his fingers along his thighs, up to his hips, and he pressed his palm against Tooru’s lower stomach.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, and Tooru blinked up at him, eyes glossy and dark with dilated pupils underneath the fogged lenses of his glasses, “You’re so beautiful, Tooru.”

Tooru made a noise that was a cross between a whine and a moan, and Hajime kissed along his jaw as he pressed two fingers up into him, his other hand rubbing at his inner thigh, and then travelling upwards to tangle into his hair as he twisted and hooked his fingers. Tooru grit his teeth, then, and quivered under Hajime’s touch and came with a loud moan, and Hajime was sure that Tooru ripped out a bit of hair out of his scalp. He’d go bald in a year at this rate.

It took Tooru a moment to catch his breath. His thighs were still twitching and Hajime carded his fingers through his hair, tucking it behind his ears, as Tooru ducked his head into Hajime’s shoulder and held onto him tightly. He sniffled.

“Are you— are you crying?” Hajime asked.

In an instant, Tooru’s face burned and he wiped at his eyes, which were wet, _of course_ they were, and his cheeks were wet, too.

“No,” he said.

Hajime laughed, then.

“You are,” he said, “Oikawa Tooru cries during sex. I’m going to tell everyone.”

“Shut up,” Tooru whined, and withdrew his head out of Hajime’s shoulder to lie back onto the sofa, “It’s been a really— it’s a lot of...”

Hajime wasn’t listening, not really, and he only laughed again and closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead against Tooru’s once more. He brushed Tooru’s remaining tears away with his thumb, rough fingers soft and painfully gentle against Tooru’s skin.

Tooru closed his eyes, then, and simply basked in the feeling of Hajime pressed this close to him, and he could think of nothing else but Hajime in that moment. Lying in the humid air of the morning, he thought that he could cry some more, actually, because it was overwhelming to think that he was living in a moment where he didn’t want to change a single thing. It wasn’t perfect; the sofa beneath him was more foam that fabric and Hajime was sort of heavy. It was only that all the imperfections were good, too.

“You came over my clothes,” Hajime said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

“Yeah,” Tooru replied, though he didn’t dare to move or look away, “Sorry— I think it adds character, though.”

He smiled up at him sleepily and ran his hands over Hajime’s shoulders.

“You should move in with me.”

Tooru’s smile faltered, briefly, though not in a bad way. He was merely astonished and surprised. Hajime’s chest ached and he was worried he was going to vomit, or something, and he doubted himself, for a moment, thinking that perhaps this wasn’t the time for such a conversation, when they’re both exhausted and everything, or that Tooru would maybe be disgusted or that he didn’t want this to be serious or anything like that.

“You wanted to move out of your place for months,” Hajime continued, “You said you did.”

“Moving out isn’t the same as moving in with you— moving in with someone means...,” Tooru paused, briefly, “It means buying plates together.”

Hajime felt panic arise in his chest, and he sat up, then. Tooru sat up, too, and they faced each other once more. There was distance between them, though, and it was suffocating.

“I want to buy plates with you.” said Hajime.

Tooru’s mouth opened a little and his eyes widened.

“I... I want to buy plates with you, too.” he said quietly, almost in a whisper.

“Yeah?” Hajime breathed.

“Yeah.” Tooru finished, and he smiled shyly.

Hajime laughed, then, and lunched forward, wrapping his arms around Tooru and pulling him towards him as Tooru laughed easily.

“I love you,” Hajime found himself saying quietly, “I really, _really_ love you.”

Tooru giggled wildly.

“I love you, too,” he said, and Hajime started laughing once more because he was so damn happy, and they remained pressing towards each other there for a while, in the pleasant quiet until Hajime reached to slide Tooru’s glasses off the end of his nose to place them on the makeshift coffee table and shoved his head into Tooru’s neck, his skin soft and warm against Hajime’s face.

As he shut his eyes to the sound of Tooru’s slow and even breathing, Tooru’s voice rang through the silence.

“Do you think we should get a dog?”

**Author's Note:**

> character development she said  
> it's all character development she said
> 
> ;)


End file.
